


The 31 Horrors of Hallows' Eve

by CatCalls



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Human, Body Horror, Drabble, Gore, Horror, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mental Breakdown, Mind Manipulation, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Touching, Objectification, October Prompt Challenge, Other, Tentacles, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-15 11:34:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20865533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatCalls/pseuds/CatCalls
Summary: Drabbles and one-shots based on different October prompts.





	1. Beginnings (Tarn/Pharma)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If you asked Pharma, all of it started with a heart."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Stalking, Mild Gore, Obsessive Behaviour.

If you asked Pharma, all of it started with a heart.

He had seen it with ease, bright red between the purity of fresh snow, like a rose blooming in the desolated landscape that surrounded the Clinic of Delphi. It could have felt like mere chance, an unfortunate coincidence, was it not for the fact that the organ had been placed next to the spot that the medic followed while taking minor strolls to unwind stress and feel whatever pitiful rays of sunlight that managed to pierce through the heavy clouds that permanently invaded the expanses of Messatine’s sky.

Just like that morning.

Pharma had been enjoying his small walk, well protected by a heavy coat and scarf, hands kept just as warm and safe by a pair of gloves and a steaming thermos full of coffee that he sipped idly while going through all the paperwork and pending responsibilities that he would need to tend to when his small break came to an end. It had been extremely normal, mundane to the routine that he had established a week after arriving to that place.

And then he had spotted the pool of scarlet and any shred of normalcy had come toppling down.

Pharma had approached it with a sense of foreboding, curious and chary on equal measures towards the strange change of his usual scenario, just to feel shock grab a hold of him with painful certainty, numbing and paralyzing, he lost his grip over the object he was holding and it fell making a light ‘thud’, uncared, for all of Pharma’s racing thoughts were directed to the  _ heart. _

Laid down in perfect condition, like someone had cut open a chest and pried the appendage with extreme care from between the carnage, with intent, it was an impressive surgical accomplishment, it would have been fascinating to see it performed in an actual operation table, but here, like this…

It was terrifying.

He shouldn't jump into conclusions, thought, it could be fake, the newest attempt of his staff to play him a  _ prank,  _ more cruel and elaborated, animatedly, but also a perfectly believable explanation, so he trek forward, until the distinct smell of blood flooded his senses and the exact shape of the organ caused him to reel back. Because that was a human heart, in every way, shape and form, and it would be foolish to put into doubt his own expertise on the subject just to save his sensibilities.

The resolution, however, also proved that  _ this _ couldn’t be any kind of tasteless prank, and that only helped to make the feeling of dread crawl faster through his skin.

The most worrisome fact, thought, was that the heart still appeared to be fresh. Not a trace of frost or ice upon the puddle of blood or the surface of the heart, like it had just been ripped out and abandoned there.

Pharma felt his breath hitch and he choked with a small expression of fear, when from the corner of his eye he caught sight of another figure out of place, at the distance, a mass of something black and humanoid standing between the cold, unbothered, Pharma stumbled backwards, fear mixing with a new urgency of fleeing, because, somehow, a chilling part of his panicked mind had concluded that the first monstruos discovery and this mysterious figure could only be related in one way.

A shudder wracked his body, and he willed himself to turn around and run. The harsh wind brought the sound of what could only be a chuckle, soft and deep, entaizyng, and Pharma felt his own heart leap, he curled over and let out a whine, confused and afraid, and he thought he was going to die there.

The figure was still watching him.

And finally,  _ finally,  _ his body answered to his desperate pleas of moving, and he ran. His steps faltered when another amused sound reached his ears but he regained his footing and kept going.

But he couldn’t help but think that this was the start of some sick game.

In the distance, Tarn watched his dearest doctor flee, amused and pleased, his gift received the reaction he had hoped and he purred. Horror really looked lovely on Pharma.

In the end, for the terrified medic it had started with that blood curdling discovery, but perhaps, it had started with a look, the kindle of interest and the spiralling into obsession of a monster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first prompt is done! Thank you for reading!
> 
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated.


	2. Dance (Overlord/Swerve)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #2: Dance.
> 
> “What a pretty little doll, now” Overlord’s smile turned sharper, cruel and he considered his next order for a bit before finally saying: “Dance for me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings: Non-Consesual Touching, Non-Consesual Body Modification, Objectification, Mental Breakdown.

When Swerve woke up, he was aware of only two things: he didn't know where he was, and he was terrified.

His mind was still reeling, trying to catch glimpse and pieces of memories that could help him make sense out of how he ended in his current predicament, trapped in a dark… room, or something, disoriented and feeling numb. Not a single one of his limbs were answering to him, he could barely sense them at all, a part of his scrambled thoughts brought forward the possibility that _ maybe _that was because he didn’t had them anymore, but he tried to push it away.

Panicking wasn't going to help him.

Except he was pretty much in an absolute state of panic already, despite the fact that he wasn't hyperventilating, or thrashing around like a trapped mechanimal.

But that was just because, he was realizing slowly, he _ couldn't. _

His limbs not answering to him was just a minor part of the whole picture, every single part of his frame felt disconnected, unresponsive, like he didn't have even a bit of agency over his own body. Like it was out of his control.

But surely, that was ridiculous, it was _ his body, _ after all. He was the one that _ could _move it and use it as he wanted. Yeah, of course. His systems were just probably taking some time to come fully online.

It was definitely just that.

Or maybe he was dead.

The thought would most have definitely made his vent stutter if they were actually _ answering to him, _but in his current state they remained at a steady pace, as if he wasn't choking and drowning because of fear and desperation. The whole lack of autonomy was just making it worse, actually.

He was starting to feel trapped in more than just the physical sense, and that was frustrating, and wrong, and the worst kind of awful.

Primus, how had he ended up like this?

He tried to concentrate once more and finally, _ finally, _his processor was able to put together a few bits of the last events that arrived to his memory banks, fuzzy images of Tailgate, Cyclonus and maybe Whirl? Walking down the streets of an alien planet, surrounded by the crowd of locals and some other visitors, chatter and colors and sounds, and… okay, he remembered the Lost Light making a stop in a planet that was cybertronian-friendly, deciding to go and take a look around after Tailgate offered him to accompany him and Cyclonus.

Exploring for a bit… feeling someone or something grab him, trying to shout for help, and then _ nothing. _

Swerve shuddered, thoughts bringing forward flashes of pain and screams that sounded like his own.

That, that was most likely bad, like horrendously bad.

He wished desperately for this to be a terrible nightmare, that he had somehow hit his helm against something and he had to be carried back to his hab suite and that he was going to wake up for real with a concussion or something.

That would suck, really, but would be infinitely better than this.

Swerve was absolutely ranting in his thoughts at the moment, and he would give anything in the universe to hear all of his musings and rambling come out of his vocalizer, the urge to hear his voice spill out like usual being overwhelming, and the inability to do so being just as damaging.

Maybe he had _ really _ died.

_ Or not. _

Right in that instant the sound of something like a crate opening and pale rays of light reached him. His optics shuttered by reflex, trying to adjust to the new illumination, while that happened he felt a servo take hold of him and pull him out of the _ box _where he had been laying, he would have yelped if he could.

Things finally started to take shape for him again, but he couldn't reel backwards and away of the figure holding, but Primus knew how much he wanted, to run and hide and not be found.

Because the mech craddling and watching him like he was some sort of _ object, _was Overlord.

Known terror and sadist, he wanted to scream.

But his frame did nothing but stay lax and pliant against the touch of a murderer.

Trepidation made him grow even more restless, but that didn’t change anything, that was it, this was how his life ended, powerless and defenseless and probably in an insane amount of pain.

Because even when Overlord had done nothing but hold him and touch him lightly, moving him around and looking him all over, that didn’t mean he wasn’t planning something damaging.

He wanted to tremble and curl up so badly.

Instead he heard Overlord hum, satisfied “It appears that the publicity I found was telling the truth, you really are a precious little toy, hm?”

It was mocking, but Swerve wasn’t able to flinch, _ toy, _that was what he had called him, but he was no toy, he was a bot with feelings and agency and… and…

He wasn't a… a plaything.

“But why don't we test it out? Can’t have myself jump into conclusions and end up spending shanix in faulty merchandise.” A purr, and Overlord began to put him down over a table of sorts, Swerve wanted to purge.

“Let’s start with something simple: Smile for me.”

Swerve felt his spark constrict inside of his casing by the sheer force of his shock and horror when he felt his derma answer to the command as if it had come from his processor, lips twitching up and forming what probably was a ’charming smile’, fake and unnatural and disconnected, but there.

He wanted to purge his tanks, instead the smile remained firmly in place.

“Not bad, not bad”, Another sound of consideration. “Now, tell me your name.”

“I’m Swerve! Nice to meet you!”

The voice sounded cheerful and natural, not as if it was being forced out of Swerve against his will, and despite his prior desperation to hear it, he couldn't help but feel that it might as well be coming from an outsider.

That couldn't be him, he was not doing any of this, he was sure, _ then why… why was his frame… _

“What a good little doll, now” Overlord’s smile turned sharper, crueler and he considered his next order for a bit before finally saying: “Dance for me.”

And the frame began to move, making small steps and postures, fluid and elegant and preppy, smile unwavering with every action. It wasn't an overly complicated choreography, just simple and _ pretty, _like it was supposed to be.

Swerve felt like he was sick, screaming and pounding inside his processor, desperate and terrified for himself, and _ of _himself.

He was being treated like and object, acting like one, and he felt weak and used and violated and...

What had been done to him? _ He wanted an out! He needed one right now! _

He was breaking down, processor failing while he tried to make sense of everything, of himself, of whatever he was now.

The body continued to move.

Swerve wept. Overlord chuckled.

“Good, come closer.”

And it complied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this chapter, I will try to catch up with the rest of the prompts during the weekend! 
> 
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated!


	3. Feast (Ratchet/Drift)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “That spark was calling it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Violence, Major Character Dead.

From the moment it started there had been hunger.

Atrocious, consuming, unrelenting. 

It left the monster aching, bitter and feral, snarls making their way out of unhinged jaws, while it crawled and thrashed, searching for something to quench the thirst and desperation. There wasn't much to worry or distract it aside from the need, and the thrill from the screams and the sound of metal being turn when it used its tendrils to pierce and cut, making way towards what he wanted, what he  _ needed. _

Its actions were methodical, almost as if it knew how exactly to pry open the frames in order to reach the treasure that laid within. Pieces of what it used to be sometimes making their way between mere instinct and pain, like the times it saw recognition dance on the optics of the mechs it pinned down, hearing their pleads, before ripping their sparks out and watching any kind of expression be etched in their face plates forever.

Angry or uncaring, it tended to vary.

But the hunger never fully receded.

It made him restless, vicious, no prey was allowed to flee for they helped it to keep its lacking sanity in place, to not wither and die. Survival was its priority, survival meanted everything, because that way it will manage to find  _ him _ again.

The mech with the alluring spark, the one that made it feel phantom sentiment. Warm and pretty, delicious. An absolute feast.

-

It found him again, finally, and it stood tall and horrifying and wrong, and Drift watched him feeling desperate, useless, trying to save his beloved.

Because he could still try to do that, couldn’t he?

_ It moved forward,  _ claws sharp, ready to kill. That spark was calling it.

Drift reacted, spark constricting painfully between hope and fear, this could be how he died, mutilated and pathetic, but he couldn't stop himself from trying to help him.

Bring Ratchet back to him.

The creature fought, growing more restless with every failed attempt to incapacitate the mech, feeling the echoes of that spark so close and yet so far, leaving him rabid and horrid. Tendrils lashing out, frame constricting in unnatural ways, screeching loud and blood curling. Feeling  _ something _ trying to slither through its helm. Uneasy, attempts growing careless.

A klik was all it took.

Drift lost his focus, seeing a tiny bit of  _ consciousness  _ light up in those hazy optics, and then he was tripping and falling to the ground with a huff.

The form of the spark eater was on him just a second later, features contorted in a vicious snarl. Pleased. Tendrils hovering and ready to pounce down.

Drift reeled back when he saw the expression, so unnatural on that face, and he tried to struggle, feeling the grip that was holding him become almost crushing, his vents stuttered and he looked back at those optics searching for a  _ trace, a light, anything at all that spoke of him. _

But he only saw manic intent and his own horror staring back at him.

Drift sputtered, lost, and then he begged  _ “Ratchet,  _ Ratty, p-please, can you hear me?” The words were rushed, dripping feeling.

The creature felt it, that  _ something _ moving more furiously inside it, and it growled, choking, hold becoming even tighter.

Drift kept trying “Ratchet, please! Listen to me, this isn’t you, okay? Y-you are the greatest medic in the story of all Cybertron, and you are also tired and grumpy, and your sense of humor is dry and clever, and you hate it when I don’t tidy up my side of the hab suite but you…” His vocalizer glitched, grieve and the weight of happy memories attempting to make him drown “But you always smile while you help me put everything back into place.”

It screeched again, moving his claws towards its helm, tearing at it to  _ make it stop! _

“And you make me feel loved, and appreciated and strong.” Drift’s breath hitched and he sat up, doubtful, moving his servos to cradle the helm of the  _ mech _ in front of him “And I love you in return.”

There was the sound of screeching metal being torn open, quick and defining.

Drift was dead a moment later.

And the creature finally holded in his arms the spark that it had yearned for,  _ yes,  _ alluring, tantalizing, it brought it close to the gaping hole on its chest.

And he cried.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Third Prompt done! This was is really messy and probably bad, still, thanks for reading! 
> 
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated.


	4. Nature (Prowl)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Prowl loved nature, nature loved him back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Tentacles, Non-Consesual Drug Use, Non-Consesual Body Modification, Mind Manipulation.

He had been hiking like he usually did, following the path marked to help anyone that decided to explore the woods so that they didn’t get lost, Prowl appreciated it, it made one of his favorite pass times easier, because if he didn’t have to worry about the route he was taking, then he could put all of his attention into appreciating the wonders that nature had to offer.

Prowl loved nature, its diversity and simple, yet complex, beauty. The way plants and animals adapted and prolifered despite the hardships they might encounter. He loved the wildness and tranquility that it all represented, the sounds, the sights… all of it.

He allowed his usual neutral features to form a tiny smile, relaxed and content, taking a deep breath and allowing himself to get distracted by the rustling leaves and chirping birds.

Then, something took hold of one of his ankles and _ pulled, _ making him fall face first into the ground, failing around to break the fall and having the air being knocked out of him when he hit the ground, and once there, disoriented and with his thoughts reeling, he wasn’t able to give much of a fight when the _ thing _began to drag him to the depths of the forest.

-

Prowl thrashed and did the possible to find a way to get some traction against whatever was doing this, but that only helped to get his hands scratched and bleeding, so he let out a shuddering breath and tried to turn around to get a look at his feet, trying to discern what what the thing responsible for all of this.Was it some kind of trap? A joke of sorts?

The idea annoyed him immensely, who would do something so risky in a place so far away from any kind of helpful services that would be necessary in case it ended up going sour during this whole process? Honestly, this was unacceptable and immature. Surely, it will have to be more thoroughly investigated and…

Prowl train of thought stopped, noticing without managing to get a hold of real understanding, because around his ankle there was wrapped a piece of brightly colored vines, strong and lush, lacking any kind of device that could be causing the movement. The weirdness of it made him sputter, confused and scrambling from any knowledge he had that could help him get a logical answer.

He found none.

-

Fighting against the hold only made things worse, he discovered when he attempted to take a position that allowed him to cut the vine with the help of his knife pocket, but only achieving to have the knife being pulled out of his grasp by another vine, with the one around his ankle trekking upwards and wrapping around the rest of his legs.

Prowl thought about screaming to get help, but found it could be _ dangerous, _it was almost clear the... plant that was holding him had some kind of self awareness, and he doubted it would like to see him being anything aside of complacent, so he tried to remain calm and memorize the route he was being pulled in.

Some time later the plant stopped in the middle of a clearing that was adorned by the bright rays of sunshine and a plush and vibrant variety of flowers, all of them pretty and attractive, surrounding a big tree that rested in the middle, with a lustrous foliage of greens, purples and reds, from there, more vines begin to stir and approach him, and Prowl shuddered, skittish and on edge, lips forming a tight line, trying to access what would be their next movement, in the end, each one of his arms and neck were surrounded by one of the appendages, and, carefully he was lifted off the ground and effortlessly manipulated to be resting on his back almost at the start of the trunk of the tree.

Prowl gulped, heart pounding on his chest and shaking lightly, the way the vines moved in what could only be described as a _ soothing _ motion, not helping him at all.

He was growing more restless and panicked by the second, because even his cold and collected demeanor had a limit, and it was fastly approaching.

The plants continued their touching and prodding like coaxing him to rest, but Prowl didn’t relax, he _ couldn’t, _and that appeared to make the vines grow restless in return, and then he felt something sharp trying to dig under need the skin of one of his arms.

Prowl grunted, throat closing up as he looked what appeared to be a torn peel out at the tip of one of the vines, pressing, _ hard, _against the barrier of his skin and breaching it slowly, he hissed and tried to shake his arm free to no avail.

Then the same process started in his other arm, and on each of his legs, with less subtitly, this time, it was harsh and quick, forceful, and Prowl screamed.

The vine around his neck snaked upwards until it also surrounded his mouth like a gag, and it closed up, making him choke.

The vines that pierced his limbs began to _ move, _ inside him, inch by inch, and blood began to stream out of the holes that were made to allow them to get in, Prowl felt tears beginning to well up at the corner of his eyes, and unable to do anything else, he whimpered and bit down on the vine that was between his teeth, feeling the rest of them _ shudder _, and then some sort of sap began to coat the insides of his mouth.

It was horribly sweet and made him gag, but he couldn't spit it out. Not much after, he started to feel dizzy and numb, there was still a light _ sting _that reminded him of the things making their way inside of him, and he trembled weakly, afraid more than ever.

Distantly, he wondered what would kill him first, the blood loss? Or the vines piercing his innards?

He would have laughed, feverishly, if he could, instead a muffled sob wracked his body.

He thought he heard a displeased rumble, but it was probably just his distorted thoughts conjuring up hallucinations, between his blurry vision he saw more vines descend upon him and he flinched, that appeared to make them pause, before they carefully continued their way, one of them began to try and wipe away the tears streaming down his cheeks before it began to play with a few strands of his, trying to make Prowl be less distraught.

And somehow, for his addled brain, it felt _ good, right. _

It was terrifying, and he wondered if the thing still dripping inside his mouth was a _ drug _of sorts.

Something inside of him was prodded and he shuddered, it felt like it was _ somewhere _in his torso, but he couldn't actually tell and the vine around his neck prevented him for looking down.

Finally, the rest of the vines he had seen the second time appeared again, all holding what appeared to be a… _ crown? _ Of sorts, made out of different flowers tied together, it was simple, but pretty and Prowl wondered if it was for _ him. _

Somewhere in his surroundings he thought he heard a _ yes, _and then the vines pulled him up slightly and began to set the crown neatly in place. Prowl couldn't fight to stop them.

A part of himself wondered why he would even think to fight?

This was _g_ _ ood . _

This was _ right. _

Prowl loved nature, and nature loved him, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt four is done! This one is a bit freaky, uh sorry, but thanks for reading! 
> 
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated.


	5. Lost (Shockwave/Blurr)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Blurr whimpered, trembling, desperate and lost…
> 
> And then he caught him.
> 
> Blurr screamed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Gore, Mental Breakdown, Mild Description of Injury, Minor Character Dead.

Blurr couldn’t recognize much apart from the sound of machines beeping and his aching body. Some times, he managed to crack his eyes open for a second and catch glimpses and blobs of the world around him, but that frequently caused him to end up disoriented and nauseous when the things started to swim around his vision, until the anesthetics being constantly dripped on to his bloodstream made him fall back to unconsciousness.

Sometimes, when the room was dark and he was alone, his addled mind might spot an ominous figure standing at the corner of his room, a shining red light staring him down. And he would grow restless, head pounding, pulse quickening.

Having a panic attack.

And whoever was doing their round that night would come rushing into the room, calling for help to restrain him and sedate him, trying to be reassuring, but  _ not listening to him,  _ and he needed to warn them, to save them from the _ thing, the monster…! _

But when his frantic gaze returned to the place where it had been, he would find nothing.

-

Working to recover was a long process, tiring and frustrating, but it needed to be done. Blurr couldn’t hide nor deny that he was growing more and more desperate of being trapped in a bed, he wasn’t used to being… inactive, and with almost every inch of his body being hurt to some extent, there wasn't much for him to do except trying to get better.

That, and remembering what exactly happened during his  _ accident. _

The whole ordeal was still confusing at best and a complete nightmare at worst, there was not much information to work with, truthfully, there was no information at all, for what he had gathered Cliffjumper, a friend of his, had found him mangled and barely alive at the side of the road.

_ “I went looking for you.” _

He had told him, scowling and crying, and Blurr felt terrible about making him worry. But it provided him with clues to at least figure out  _ what  _ had he been doing when the incident happened, the answer was simple: He had been running.

The next competition for the track team was approaching, and he has decided to go out and practice, he even remembered telling Cliff as much. Then, a drunk driver or something probably hit him, panicked, and left him there until he was found.

Except that didn’t made much sense to him.

He felt like he was missing pieces of information, but his recollection of that day was very sketchy already, he didn’t think he would get back the details of that moment. That didn't stop him from trying, of course, but he usually ended with a headache and images of unclear shadows, and phantom pain.

The physical side of his therapy was going much better, though, and he was very thankful for that fact. He could stand up on shaky legs, even give a few tentative steps… it was nothing close to what he used to do, but it was something at least and a nurse had told him that if he kept it up, he would be allowed to leave soon, and despite the mystery that plagued him, that helped him to remain hopeful.

Things were looking up.

-

A sound woke him up, and he knew it was late.

Blurr could tell because of the darkness of the room and the calmness in the atmosphere, still, something felt… off, he couldn't pinpoint what exactly. He turned to the corner on the room, slowly, thinking that maybe it was the weird figure that his thoughts used to conjure, but he found nothing there.

He left out the breath he didn't realize he was holding, a shiver running down his spine, he shouldn’t feel so on edge, there wasn’t anything in his room. But then where had that strange sound come from?

He tried to call a nurse using the button next to his bed, and after some time without getting reply, he tried again, and again. Maybe they were all busy? 

The thought was worrisome, but what other explanation could there be?

Blurr slumped against the pillow, mulling his options,  _ waiting  _ would be the responsible thing to do but… he couldn't deny he was curious, and maybe a little bit nervous, the whole ordeal was unusual, maybe he could take a look outside? His body had been recovering well enough, and he could use the support that held the IV bag that was connected to his arm as a cane of sorts.

He could do that and hopefully not get in much trouble.

With his mind made up, Blurr slided closer to the edge of the bed, planting his feet firmly on the floor and feeling a chill shake him do to the cold, then, he pulled closer the support and carefully stood up, remaining still for a few minutes before starting to give small steps forward, breathing slowly and furrowing his brow in concentration, smiling when he reached the door to his room. 

Then he turned the knob and peered outside, and the expression crumbled.

The hall could be described as the scene of a horror movie, with blinking lights and eerie silence, Blurr gulped and thought about laughing, because that was ridiculous, the electricity was probably just giving problems on that part of the hospital and that's why the nurses hadn’t answered to his calls and…  _ there was a body in the floor. _

There was a body on the floor and blood was pooling around it.

Blurr felt the floor give out under his feet. What…? 

And as his gaze continued to trail down the corridor, he saw more of them, all torn open, in bits and pieces, and he felt like throwing up. The air was heavy with the smell of copper and Blurr stumbled forward, trying to catch his footing and remain standing. He managed, barely, and raised his head doubtfully, shuddering with fear and disgust.

And that’s when he spotted it.

The entity, a vicious mass of inky darkness and sharp angles, tall and intimidating, red orb shining ominously between the shadows and the broken illumination.

Blurr’s heart dropped, and he took a step back, full with anguish, having a flash of a  _ memory  _ too similar to this.

The creature remained where it was, and then its  _ eye  _ turned a little bit softer, and it chuckled.

_ “Awake I see.” _

The voice was distorted and it made Blurr feel nauseous, between the shock and terror coursing through his veins, this situation was terribly wrong in every possible way, and he couldn’t find his voice to… scream, at least. Body tense and taut, ready to attempt to flee.

_ A hum. _

_ “Will you not answer me, beloved?” _

Blurr clenched his jaw and flinched, mind trying to make sense of what he had been called, not understanding, turmoil growing inside of him and turning his expression into one full of disbelief and horror. He tried to make a noise, demand an answer, or defy the monster.

He only managed a strangled sound.

_ “But perhaps you are just not used still to see me like this.”  _ There was a trickle of annoyance, and Blurr felt his discomfort become unbearable, something prodding on his mind, attempting to break free  _ “It matters not, we shall not be apart for much longer.” _

The creature took a step forward. Blurr snapped.

“Stay back!” The shout was hoarse and painful, it appeared to surprise the entity too, because it stopped and looked at him.

_ “Blurr.”  _ The thing  _ chided  _ him  _ “If you fear for what happened in the woods, I assure you…” _

“No!” He hollered, desperate “Shut up, I- I don’t know what you are talking about and, and I don’t care! Don’t you dare come any closer! I… I will, I don't, you won’t get near me!” There was something, something scratching the surface, but he didn't want to know.

He didn't he didn’t he didn’t.

_ “Come now, dear, you don’t mean that.” _

Blurr remembered Longarm and he ran.

Feeling the IV ripping out of his arm, pain barely registering as he tripped over dismembered bodies and blood that tainted his feet and legs, adrenaline propelling him forward, thoughts crashing, eyes burning. 

Behind him, it…  _ he,  _ sighed and began to chase him down.

-

Blurr tried to make sense of whatever direction he was going, checking signals with indications that didn’t quite reach him, moving down one door after the other, propelling himself down flights of stairs and barricading the entrances he managed. He needed to get to the exit.

He needed to get away.

He needed…

_ Longarm. _

Blurr felt like crying.

Now he remembered.

Following in secret the man he loved, making a hideous discovery, fleeing, getting caught and then… pain, pain and heartbreak.

Blurr was sure he was going to die that day. He wondered if he was going to die now, like the people adorning every inch of that place. But  _ no,  _ he wasn’t going to give in, he just needed to keep going and he would find the exit and warn everyone else.

A choked sob left him as he rounded another corner, not a sign of the entrance, but he had been certain that_ this was the right way._

He was so  _ tired,  _ hurting, at his wits end, he felt like air was not reaching him, tears running freely down his face. Breaking.

Blurr whimpered, trembling, desperate and lost…

And then he caught him.

Blurr screamed.

_ “Hush now.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt five is done! This wasn't supposed to be this long, regardless of that, thanks for reading!
> 
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated.


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